


Colorful Stupidity

by Amlia



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Amputee OMC, Basketball, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hanamiya still hates him though, Hanamiya-centered on the second chapter, Happy Ending, Imayoshi senpai is the best, Injury, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Jabberwock didn't happen, Lolita!Midorima's sister, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, OMC sets hanamia a bit straighter, Post-Season/Series 03, at first, because I suck for those, duh - Freeform, it goes as well as expected, now with fanart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 00:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlia/pseuds/Amlia
Summary: Riko is the first to cross paths with the unassuming Shido - but she is not the last. In a series of serendipitous meetings, Hyuuga, Midorima, Aomine and Kiyoshi stumble upon the mysterious basketball player. Little do they suspect his improbable connection with their cruelest enemy.Well, not even the most skillful spiders can help the loose ends they leave behind.(Or, the one where the sweet boy with mechanical leg has a past worth mentioning.)





	1. Five encounters that lasted a moment...

**Author's Note:**

> So, KnB is, doubtlessly, one of my favorite animes. Hanamiya is a complicated character who drew my attention and curiosity. I tried to write a Fanfic worthy of them both. I like to think I succeded.  
> The first chapter is centered on the other characters. Hanamiya stars in the second.  
> Enjoy.
> 
> Infinite thanks to NaTak, my beta!!!

Seirin’s next year in basketball tournaments promised to be something to behold.

They had all their well trained third year veterans and their second year prodigies. Besides, the new flesh also seemed promising. Most were boys seeking some sort of sports activity, others really loved the game, a few seeked the fame the Winter Cup brought.

Still, Seirin was young but seasoned, a team willing to reach heights, a coach more than invested in their victory.

That is why, right at the beginning of the school year, she instituted a rigorous training regime.

“You slacked all through vacations!” Riko shouted at her players, who ran laps after laps and did push ups after push ups.

“You gave us exercise homework…” Kagami murmured to Kuroko, sweat dripping from every pore. The ace had no response, so he turned to find his partner.

The shorter player seemed dead a few feet away. “Kuroko!” Many teammates exclaimed, rushing to assist the teen. He really had terrible stamina.

And so the exercises continued.

Riko also had planned something else for her players.

Another get away to a training center should set everyone straight.

...

Riko and her father went a day before the rest of the team to set everything up. The loops on the sand had been quite effective last year, and she had every intention of reaching the same goals.

So, they organized a training get away mixing sand activities and fartlek.

She took the chance to explore the mountains terrain where the running around would take place. It was good to have an idea of the better places to train the body into various positions, but mainly to make sure the boys kept to the safer areas.

It was a good thing she went ahead, since last year’s rain season seemed to have turned many paths dangerous, far too unstable to walk through. If someone was going to die under her watch, she wanted it to be on the court, not in the middle of nowhere.

As careful as she was in her planning and walking, she still fell victim to the terrain’s trap.

A loose rock, an inclined ravine and a narrow path resulted in a twisted ankle.

“Great, just great.” She murmured, cradling her swelling member tenderly. It could have been worse, but it would hurt for a day or two. 

She stood up and attempted a step. Riko almost fell. “No, not gonna work.” She murmured, taking her cell phone to call for support.

No signal.

“Come on! Are you kidding me?!” She huffed. Now she had a problem.

She could try to hobble her way back, at the cost of a further injured ankle, or she could sit and wait, and probably be eaten by a creature or another.

She psyched herself to a long, painful walk back.

“Hei!” A masculine voice called down. Riko turned surprise eyes up the path she had slided down. “Are you okay?!”

It was a high school boy. He was fully clothed and many meters away, but Riko could already tell he was some sort of sportist. He had his black hair tied in a ponytail.

She was hesitant to accept help from a stranger in the middle of the forest, but she didn’t seem to have a choice. Besides, he appeared to be innocuous enough, in running gear and apparently just as surprised at seeing Riko.

“Actually, I twisted my ankle!” She informed. “Do you have cell phone signal up there?” She asked, still not willing to have the boy approach.

The teen reached into his sweatpants' pocket and took his cell. “Yes!” He informed smiling. “It is pretty weak, but I think I can make a call or send a message. Do you want me to warn someone?”

Riko informed the boy her father’s number, and requested he call the man. The teen did so, even putting the call on speakers, but all they got was her father’s voice mail.

The boy shifted awkwardly for a few instants before leaving a message for the man, informing, in the least likely way to give the man a heart attack, that his daughter was hurt and the location.

“I will try to get to you.” He informed. “Maybe we can hobble together to civilization.” He joked with a smile.

Riko observed entranced as the teen slide from tree to tree on his way down, laying close to the inclined ground and using leaves and roots as support. He was extremely fit, flexible and confident.

Still, there seemed to be something off about the way he moved, and Riko couldn't figure out why.

“Hi!” He jumped in front of her. He was relatively tall, around 1.75m, and had endless black eyes. She noticed his hair tips dyed in blue. “I didn’t introduce myself, I am Shido Ryuzaki, pleasure to meet you!” He bowed slightly.

“Aida Riko, a pleasure, Shido-kun,” she returned the reverence. “Thank you very much for helping me, I didn’t have signal down here.” she indicated her useless cell.

He nodded understanding. “I can imagine.” They stood in silence for a few seconds, gazing around. The wood was truly beautiful, when you took the time to appreciate it.

“Alright, let’s get you to the city,” Shido exclaimed with an encouraging smile. He lowered himself a bit, offering his shoulder. Riko looped an arm around his neck, and they started a slow descend.

“So…” Shido attempted to make conversation. “I am here to exercise,” he indicated his sweatpants and running shoes. “What about you? Out for a pleasantly walk?” He inquired, carefully side stepping a root.

She huffed a laugh. “Something like that,” she murmured.

They made good progress, even if their movements were drastically slowed. It was fine, though, Shido was being really supportive -ha- and was good company. They would make it just fine, in an hour or two, maybe.

The climate seemed to desire to screw their plans.

Heavy clouds closed the sky in minutes. Thunders rumbled in the distance. The wind picked up suddenly.

When the sun disappeared completely, Shido stopped with pursed lips.

“I think you realise this could get worse,” he conversationally started, looking up to the sky and down the way they had to go.

“We can try to make our way on the rain,” Riko murmured thoughtful, ever the strategist. “Or maybe find shelter until the worst is past”.

The boy nodded along. “We could do either,” he agreed, turning mischievous eyes to her. “Or we could arrive on the village before the rain starts”.

And that is how she ended on Shido's back, as he dashed as fast as possible across the terrain.

His steps were sure and he had a firm, respectful grip on her legs. Riko would have been more embarrassed about her situation had there been any witnesses.

Besides, now that she didn't have to concentrate on not falling face first on the floor, she finally realised what was off about Shido.

His gait was strange.

He stepped awkwardly with his right leg. The bend at the knee was uncommon, and the bounce back somewhat exaggerated.

He had a prosthetic leg. She hadn't seen it earlier because of his long pants and high socks, but piggybacking allowed her to feel the way he distributed his weight from leg to leg and put together what was going on.

What was he doing on the woods? Was he strengthening his muscles because of an accident? Was he still adapting to the mechanical leg? Riko had to bite her lips to snufle her curiosity. It wasn't her business anyway…

Maybe she could ask him when they got back to civilization.

And they did, just as the first drops fell from the sky. Shido helped her down on a bench under the protective stand of a convenience store at the forest's border. She noticed, with a relieved sigh, that there was phone signal.

“I can't thank you enough, Shido-kun!” Riko exclaimed with a smile. The boy had been very helpful and sweet. Besides, the way he moved seemed to tell the history of an individual with rigorous training, and _that_ she could definitely admire.

“It was no problem, Aida-san,” he assured, sounding sincere. “Besides, you gave me a good work out!” He laughed, looking up the mountain through the heavy rain. “Don't forget to call your dad,” he said as an afterthought.

The coach immediately took her phone, speed dialing her father. She went to voicemail again, leaving a much reassuring message than the last. He would eventually find her, worried sick and remorseful of not picking up, but they would get there.

As she hanged up, Shido excited the store with a bag. He had gone in as she made her call.

“I got some cold patches and drinks,” he kneeled at her feet, applying the cooling bag after her nod.

“Thank you, Shido-kun,” she repeated. “How much do I owe you?” The boy had done enough for her sorry ass, the least she could do was endorse him, pay him a drink.

He sat by her side nursing his own drink, caramel coffee. A sweet tooth then. “You don't owe much, really, “ he dismissed. “But I have to admit: curiosity is kind of killing me here,” he confessed with an entertained smile. “What were you actually doing?”

Riko smiled at him, seeing no problem in sharing now. People usually were surprised or even bothered somehow by her position as coach, so unusual it was. However, Shido didn't feel like that kind of person to her.

So she told him about basketball. About her position as coach and their training exercise in the woods. About her exploratory expedition so none of the players would go through what she just had.

She even spoke a little of her team and their achievements. She confessed how proud she was of them.

By the end of it, she realised she had been babbling for some time.

“Thank you truly for sharing, Aida-san.” Shido earnestly said, pupiless eyes gazing steadily at her. Her phone ringed at that moment, it was her father.

When she hanged up - after dozen assurances of her well being- Shido was already gone.

o.O.o

Hyuuga was an otaku.

He had come to terms with that part of himself sometime ago.

Still, his visits to Akihabara were his business and his alone.

He was searching for the Special Samurai Robot Limited Edition, browsing shelves and counters with attentive eyes, when he located it with deadly accuracy.

Hyuuga dashed as fast as possibly across the narrow corridor and extended a hand to his prize.

Just to bump against someone’s hand. They grabbed the box on different heights, the last box.

Hyuuga took a deep breath, more than ready to fight for his samurai. He had had too many lost figure actions to the last basketball training.

His competition was a black eyed boy with hair tips dyed red. And he seemed just as determined as Hyuuga.

“Excuse me-”

“Sorry-”

They closed their mouths, staring at each other. Maybe a face off would scare him away. The captain did have experience in terrifying kouhais into submission.

This guy, though, oh he was good. His bottomless eyes showed no wavering. He stared just as hard back.

The teen suddenly laughed, letting go of the box. “Alright,” he considered with a low chuckle. “We can't always win.”

Hyuuga almost jumped in victory, until the other boy showed him a coin. “Tail or heads?”

The captain scowled at him, but admitted it was a clean enough solution. He put the prize down, crossing his arms and raising his head imperiously. “Heads,” he grumbled.

The teen made great show in turning the coin both sides, revealing them different. He launched it into the air with fateful revolutions.

Hyuuga kept his gaze locked into the coin, willing it to do his bidding. He _needed_ that Samurai.

The coin fell to the floor, startling the captain.

The guy was gone. And so was the box.

“Misdirection?!” Hyuuga exclaimed with rage and surprise. “As soon as I put my hands on him…” And he ran in search of the punk. He would show him what happened to those that got between him and his merchandise.

All he got was a last glimpse of red tips dashing down the busy street. “Oi! Punk!” The captain pursued.

The mink was damn fast, but Hyuuga was a stelar player beat into form for years. He almost got him.

The punk crossed a street just as the pedestrians light went red, effectively cutting the chase short. He teen had the gall to turn back and wave across the street. “Sorry!” He shouted. “I really _need_ this samurai,” he explained.

“I need it too!” Hyuuga cursed, shaking his fist as the other laughed and disappeared in the crowd.

….

Hyuuga didn't expect to find the punk so soon.

After the failed pursue, he went browsing again. Lucky him, he found another figure in an almost forgotten corner of a moldy store, so he had put the event behind him.

After window shopping for some time, he went into a coffee shop to chill before going home.

He got himself a latte and searched for someplace to sit. It was a busy afternoon, since the weather had hold strong and many teens and kids were enjoying the weekend. There was one chair available on the corner, a guy with a beanie occupying the opposing seat. He seemed alone.

“Excuse me. Can I-” Hyuuga froze as the guy raised his head. It was the punk.

They stared wide eyed at each other for a few instants. The captain scowled deeply. “Well, if it isn't mister grab and dash,” he crossed his arms, making sure to put in evidence his almost transparent bag with the figure inside.

The teen smiled sheepishly, turning his cup in his hands. The strong aroma dispersing through the air accused it of being hot chocolate.

“Sorry.” He repeated. He indicated the chair in front of him with a polite nod. “Please, be seated,” he invited.

Hyuuga’s frown became even deeper as he regally sat down.

“I am not proud of what I have done,” he paused with a small shrug, before smirking mischievously. “Actually, I am, a little bit,” he confessed.

“Oi-” Hyuuga’s lips twisted, getting ready to lay thick on the boy. He was in for a complete dressing down.

“But-” He punk continued. “I was helping a friend of mine get that figure. He had been looking for it everywhere and has been quite forlorn this past days,” he explained with kind eyes. “I wanted to cheer him up,” he said with another shrug, sipping his beverage. “I just sent him a picture of it. He immediately called me,” he smiled, looking down. “He sounded happier already.”

Well, now Hyuuga would look like an insensitive bastard if he laid _too_ thick on the boy. He huffed exasperatedly, sipping his own drink.

“Hyuuga,” he presented himself, offering a hand. The teen startled a bit, before recomposing himself. “Shido,” they shook hands.

The captain squeezed Shido's hand threateningly, pulling the other a bit closer. “Just because you had a touching story, doesn't mean I will forget how you stole the Special Edition Robot Samurai from my bare hands,” he smiled, a murderous aurea surrounding him.

Shido’s smile turned awkward, but he laughed.

They talked a bit. Shido spoke of his friend, how he loved some animes and despised a few mangas. That led to a discussion on personal taste, and Hyuuga was appalled by how little the other teen knew about japanese cartoons.

Shido was a book worm, apparently, sharing the hobby with another friend. “Mako-chan loves a good romance as much as I,” he said with twinkling eyes.

Hyuuga had the impression that this girl was maybe something more than a friend.

They parted on good terms, exchanging book and anime recommendations and phone numbers.

Only after going their separate ways did Hyuuga realise that Shido was the same name of the boy that had helped Riko a few weeks ago.

Probably a coincidence.

o.O.o

Midorima was not having a particularly good day.

It started with the day’s lucky item: a lolita.

Now, a lolita wasn’t an object nor an item, it was a fashion style. So to acquire a ‘lolita’ one would either dress in such manner (quite embarrassing) or one would have to obtain a person dressing in lolita fashion (although that had an illegal ring to it).

Facing said dilema, Midorima chose the least mortifying and mostly legal way.

“Onii-san,” Ren, Midorima’s younger sister, pulled on their clasped hands. “What are we doing?”

At the age of 7 and a half, she was an elementary school student, barely reaching Midorima’s waist. She had his peculiar hair color and was wearing the black and orange puffed dress she had since last Halloween.

They made quite a pair.

“As I told you before,” he explained as calmly as possible, “we are going to meet my teammates on the park.”

“I remember that!” She huffed, going as far as stomping her feet as they stopped at a red light. “I mean, what are we doing _there_?”

He sighed quietly, adjusting his glasses. It would be a long day.

“I am going to overview our gaming strategy with my team. Then we will watch a streetball competition,” he said. “You are going to draw and solve your puzzles,” he indicated the bag he was carrying. “And you have Tanuki-san to keep you company, nanodayo,” he indicate the small yellow backpack she had, the plushie’s head showing at the top.

Ren puffed her cheeks, looking away. “Sounds boring,” she concluded.

Midorima was the last of the team to arrive. Between hearing Oha-Asa, coming to a decision and putting his plans into motion, he had become slightly late.

Takao was the first to locate him. Miyaji the second. Otsubo the third.

His partner burst out laughing hysterically.

“Midorima-kun,” Miyaji started cautiously, “Who is that?” He smiled hesitantly down at Ren.

“This is my sister, Ren-chan,” he pulled her from behind himself, where she was hiding. “Today’s lucky item is a lolita,” he explained at their uncomprehending gazes.

“Shut up, Takao!” He called out, almost an afterthought.

….

Ren was a well behaved child. She sat quietly at the picnic table with her crayons as they discussed plays. She hadn’t even complained about dressing lolita style or accompanying her brother the whole day.

She had said she liked spending time with her nii-san and that the dress was meant to be worn (truth be told, it was part of a witch's costume, but the striped socks and pumpkin decorated hat only made her cuter).

Takao had immediately taken dozens of photos. “This is going on my Shin-chan wall,” he had claimed. Ren had taken a liking to him since the first time he had visited their home, so she had promptly posed and allowed selfies.

As they sat together, she only interrupted now and then to show her art or ask for inspiration. Midorima’s senpais had taken great pleasure in challenging her to draw passer byes. Takao enjoyed asking for different animals.

All in all, it was going much more smoothly than anticipated. The game's time arrived soon.

They packed up and went to the open court, where spectators and players already conglomerated. Ren was holding Midorima’s and Takao’s hands so she wouldn’t get pushed around or separated from them. The crowd was large and it could be dangerous.

They found place on the stands. Ren sat between her brother and Takao. The game started.

The first quarter was fine. They were there more for entertainment than actual research, since street basketball had a style that clashed badly with Shutoku's conservative one. But it was still cool to watch.

As soon as the second quarter started, Ren pulled on Midorima's cuff. He bent closer to hear her.

“I need to go to the restroom,” she informed almost inaudible under the crowd's noise.

He pursed his lips and nodded. There was nothing he could do to control bathroom breaks.

They excused themselves and went in search of a public bathroom. Luckily, there was one close enough to the court.

“I will wait here,” he informed as they stopped in front of the women's room. A few weeks ago, when they were out together, he had asked, awkwardly, if they should go into the families bathroom together. He had gotten an angry and embarrassed negative response.

Ren quickly disappeared.

Midorima ignored the giggling women that had fascinatedly watched the interaction. Both mothers and teenagers were ogling him unashamed.

“What a sweet boy, taking care of his imoto!”

“Did you see her dress? She is so cute!”

“Do you think he has a girlfriend?”

Midorima adjusted his glasses, trying not to blush too much and failing.

“Excuse me,” a girl meekly approached Midorima, a blush dusting her cheeks and eyes on her shoes. “A-are you M-midorima-san?” She stuttered, hugging a magazine to her chest.

“Yes,” he carefully answered.

And the girl revealed herself a fan. She excitedly spoke of all the games she had watched, since his Teiko days. She commented on his outstanding abilities. She praised his form and techniques. She confessed her profound admiration and asked for an autograph.

Midorima was so flabbergasted, all he did was mechanically accept pen and magazine and slowly sign his name. He almost wrote the wrong ideogram.

She bowed deeply many times, before scurrying away. He was frozen in place, not even blood moving to his cheeks. Until insane laughter happened.

“Your face, Shin-chan!” Takao bent over, breathless. “It looks like she showed you a three headed person, oh gosh, you are killing me!” He continued howling.

Midorima adjusted his glasses again. “It’s enough, Takao!” He crossed his arms and looked away. He froze again.

The taller ignored his laughing friend and gazed around.

Ren had been gone for some time. He was right in front of the door, she was green haired and wearing a black-orange dress, it wasn't like she could have just passed him, right?

He quickly approached a middle aged woman exiting the restroom. “Excuse me. Did you see a girl wearing an orange dress inside?” He immediately questioned.

The woman was startled, as people usually were, by his height and green hair. She recomposed herself quickly enough. “I saw no one like that, dear.” She probably sensed his urgency, because she continued kindly. “Would like me call for someone inside?”

“Ren,” he blurted without niceties. “Midorima Ren.”

“Shin-chan?” Takao carefully asked, as the woman went back inside.

Midorima gave him no mind. He was probably overreacting and Ren was fine. She would come out with the kind woman any moment, irritated by her annoying onii-san and she would be mad at him until he apologized and got her that strawberry candy she lov-

“I am sorry, dear,” the woman appeared, a worried frown on her brow. “All the stals are empty, she is not there.”

The breath stuck on his chest.

“Shin-chan,” Takao seriously called. “Wait here, I will get the others.” He made an aborted step, before laying a firm hand on Midorima's shoulder. “She will be okay. She is smart, she probably just wandered, Ren-chan will find her way back.” And he dashed away.

Midorima took a deep breath. He was less worried about Ren and more about other people, with intentions. Bad intentions.

His senpais soon arrived, just as worried as Takao. They soon divided themselves and started the search.

….

Midorima and Takao gave the park a full round, asking other people about Ren.

After each step, Midorima's heart seemed to clench more, cold dread slowly seeping into his bones. Takao had stopped trying to reassured him many turns ago.

The senpais would have called had they found her. So far, nothing.

“Let's circle back, she could be waiting by the court,” Takao suggested.

Disheartened, they power walked back. To their surprise, it actually worked.

There she was, orange dress and Tanuki plushie, eyes a bit red from crying, but overall okay.

“Ren!” Midorima cried loudly. His sister startled at his shout, but she immediately dashed to him, jumping in his arms. “Nii-san!”

They hugged fiercely for a few instants. Relieve made his legs weak, so he kneeled. He didn't even care about how they looked.

“Where were you?!” Midorima asked rashly, his sister's head under his chin still.

“You are the one that disappeared, baka nii-san!” She exclaimed.

They stayed in silence some time more. A black eyed teen approached, his hair tips dyed purple.

“I told you, Ren-chan,” he gently informed. “Your nii-san wouldn't abandon you.”

Midorima let his sister go, standing up and pulling himself together. He adjusted his glasses as he studied the other. Takao took the chance to hug the girl himself.

“That’s Ryu-nii!” She smiled from Takao's arms. “I went into the boy's room to get more paper towels, but when I came back you were gone!” She accused Midorima, grabbing his hand. “So I sat and waited, but you wouldn't show,” her lower lip trembled a bit, the taller teen grew alarmed. “And some strange people kept looking at me and then-”

“I sat with Ren-chan,” Ryu finished, throwing her a gentle look. “She seemed very lonely, so I couldn't resist keeping a lovely girl company,” he winked playful at her, though he meaning hadn't been lost on Midorima. People with intentions, bad ones. That boy had saved her from an unfortunate confrontation.

“Thank you…”

“Shido Ryuzaki,” he offered a hand. “It was my pleasure, really.” They shook hands.

“Thanks man,” Takao too intervened, his easy going attitude back. “This is Shin-chan, I am Takao,” they bowed slightly to each other.

“I am Midorima,” he presented himself dryly. Shido smirked with mysterious mirth. “I see,” was all he answered.

Shido shifted his gaze to the open court, where the first game had ended a long time ago. It was then that Midorima noticed his prosthetic right leg, showing below the knee on the shorts he wore.

“I will be going now,” Shido announced as he rummaged through his sakura flower patterned bag. He retrieve a packet of Strawberry Coalas, and handed it to Ren. “Here, Ren-chan. Keep away from trouble, yes?” And he was striding away. Midorima and Takao observed as he faded into the crowd. The taller had a curious look.

“I will call the senpais,” Takao informed, taking his cell. Midorima suppose they might as well go home now.

“Wasn't Ryu-nii cool, onii-san?” Ren excitedly asked, opening the snack. Midorima cogitated telling her to put it away since it would spoil her lunch, but he didn't have the heart since that was her favorite candy.

“Yes,” he seriously agred, “very cool, nanodayo.”

o.O.o

Aomine enjoyed taking shots in the neighbor’s court as the day's light faded.

It was both the best time because the light and temperature were perfect, and also because no one usually bothered him that time.

Sometimes, he arrived earlier to play with the kids that were still there. But that was his secret.

He dribbled and ran, taking pleasure in the feel of his legs and feet drumming into the ground strongly, of the ball secure in his grip. He stopped and jumped.

The ball fell into the hoop.

He straightened, taking a deep breath into the twilight's air. A serene calm setting in his chest. Basketball had become his form of meditation many years ago.

He swagged to retrieved the ball with unrushed firm steps.

“Excuse me,” a voice called from behind. Aomine turned with the ball in hands.

A short teen with black eyes gazed at him, a pleasant smile on his lips. Aomine immediately noticed the mechanical leg, letting his eyes run over it unashamedly, before returning his stare to dark pools.

The Touou student knew promptly that he faced an opponent.

“May I join you?” The boy asked, only the slight tipping of his head as movement.

“Sure,” Aomine agreed. He passed the ball with a firm throw. The teen recepted it with sure hands, a practiced motion.

They played one on one. The boy moved fluidly and quickly; he had flexible form, hardly standing still for too long; his eyes were constantly moving, so much, that Aomine almost doubted he was actually seeing anything.

The leg gave the teen an extra bounce back at each step, but that neither seemed to help nor imper him. It just was.

Aomine was still better than him, obviously. He was better than anyone, and he holt nothing back.

However, the black eyed teen wasn't an ordinary player. He probably played in leagues and competitions with other amputee, and he should be one of the best.

Damn, he would be one of the best among the Interhigh and Winter Cup, too.

He managed to score a few times, and that was saying something against Aomine. He almost blocked a few throws, too, his fingers passing just shy of the ball.

Some more training and he would block those.

They stood panting slightly, the sky black and street lamps lighting the city. The boy had a satisfied look on his face, lips twisted in contentment and body sagged in that pleasant tiredness that came from a good match.

“Thank you,” he earnestly said. It sounded like he was grateful for more than just a shared ball.

Aomine's eyes were trained again on the prosthetic leg.

“No problem.”

….

The teen treated Aomine to one of his favorite snacks and a soda.

They sat together on a bench outside the market, nursing their drinks and munching on their food. The silence was comfortable, the exercise having relaxed stressed muscles and the night soothing overheated bodies.

“I will be seeing you, Aomine-kun,” the boy said as he stood up, bunching the chips’ bag and throwing it into the trash before walking away with hands in his pockets.

Aomine realised he hadn't asked the teen’s name. The ace shrugged. Apparently, they haven't seen the last of each other.

o.O.o

Kiyoshi hated physiotherapy. But he knew it was the only way to get him back on his feet to play basketball in his second year with the team.

He still hated it.

The good thing, though, was that he got to meet amazing people.

The elder next bed taught him shogi and chess, even though he would never win a match; the young girl down the hall drew him pretty pictures of basketball games to decorate his bedside, even though he actually didn’t recognise most of the elements on the drawing; the nurse told him about her kids antics, he always laughed with their adventures with the cat.

Then, there was the boy with the mechanical leg.

Shido Ryuzaki had been frequenting the health center since before Kiyoshi arrived on his first high school year.

The black eyed teen loved basketball as much as Kiyoshi.

They watched games together, commenting on plays, strategies and best snacks for consumption.

Shido vehemently believed that Pocky were the best. Kiyoshi couldn't take him seriously after that.

Sometimes they talked about their friends. Kiyoshi spoke of Hyuuga, and his over the top effort. Of Riko- briefly mentioning a failed romance- and how she drove them to their bones. Of Mitobe and his perpetual silence and Izuki and his puns and Koganei and his cat eyes and-

Actually, Kiyoshi talked a lot about his friends. Shido spoke, briefly but deeply, of one friend.

“Mako-chan plays basketball, too,” he said one day.

“Mako-chan likes that team, too,” he shared.

“I’ve known Mako-chan for a long time,” he commented.

“I love Mako-chan very much,” he confessed, once.

….

The Center never out loud questioned him about the leg. Shido never asked him about the knee.

“It was worth it,” the teen had said out of the blue.

“Hum?” Kioshi had raised his head from the puzzle they were putting together. Neither of them enjoyed more sophisticated games.

Shido patted his prosthetic, a brand new model, or so he told Kiyoshi. His hair tips had been bleached yellow that day.

“Losing this allowed me to realise a few things,” he conversationally confessed. He had indicated the crutches Kiyoshi was using. “Was it worth it?”

The Seirin student hadn't had to think. He turned serious eyes to his companion, until black orbs had met his warm brown eyes.

“Yes.” He smiled, a bit self conscious. “And I would do it again.”

Shido hadn't responded.

It seemed he had known Kiyoshi meant every word. And that such proclamation would be put to test the following year.

….

Shido was the first person with who Kiyoshi had commemorated his first unassisted step. Considering it had happened with only him as witness, it made sense.

Shido had been adapting to the mechanical leg for almost a year. Whatever had happened to him, had gone down during middle school. Shido already walked normally, and when he wore long pants, only a trained look could see something off.

That day, however, an unfortunate accident had occurred.

The prosthetic leg had broken as they went down the stairs.

It was a routine exercise for them both, so it was an unexpected surprise when Shido slipped backwards after an unassuming click was heard.

He lost balance and couldn't find a firm grip on the rail. He tripped down the stairs, hitting shoulder first and rolling until he got to the patamar.

Kiyoshi hadn't thought. He just ran down the stairs to help his friend.

“Wow, man!” Shido had exclaimed as he sat up slowly, dazed but okay. “You came down alone! Congrats!”

“What?” Kiyoshi had confusedly asked, heart beating wildly from the scare. He looked up the stair, where the crutches had fallen, and understanding had hit him. “Oh.”

They had hobbled together back to Shido's room, to assess the damage. The prosthetic would be fixed; it had broken due to unplanned stress that was being put on it. Shido hadn't been forthcoming with information about that at the time.

Kiyoshi hadn't had to use a crutch until the damage on his second year.

….

It was Kiyoshi’s last day on the clinic. He would finish his treatment at home, coming every other week, just like Shido had been doing.

They exchanged cell phone numbers and Kiyoshi suggested they try to set their appointments for the same days, so they could meet up regularly.

Shido became awfully grave, lips twisted in almost pain. “Take a sit, Teppei,” he said, already collapsing on a chair. “After I talk to you, you can decide if you still want to see me or not.”

Kiyoshi sat and listened.

o.O.o

The first game of the season against Kirisaki Daichi was feared by all participating schools. The reputation preceded the team. It’s game style more than notorious among Tokyo players.

The first preliminar game was Kirisaki Daichi against Meijo Academy.

“Pathetic,” Hanamiya murmured. “This game will be quite boring, you don't have to play in it,” he dismissed with a careless hand.

“I need to lose the stage fright.”

The captain chuckled. “Suit yourself.”

….

Many games took place on the same day and arena. That meant a great deal of the spectators were other basketball teams.

“We really watching their game?” Kagami murmured, lips pressed in a thin line. “We don't even play today.”

“Respect your senpais!” Hyuuga reprehended immediately, though heatless. “The coach knows what she is doing, and so does your captain and vice-captain!” Kiyoshi smiled at the rest of the team present, but offered no explanation.

The second year students figured their senpais wanted the new members of the team to see first handed what some matches could turn into. So most fell silent.

They were quiet for sometime. Until another team sat behind them.

Shutoku and Seirin exchanged nods, hellos, jokes and fist bumps.

“Oh, your game is only tomorrow, right?” Izuki asked Shutoku’s new captain, Miyaji, with a friendly nod. “Interested in this match, then?”

“Something like that,” he agreed with a huff. “That one said something about signs and astrology and Mars alignment,” he waved in Midorima's direction, who carried a jar with a Marimo.

The players of the match entered the court to start warm up.

“What?!”

“The hell?!”

“Wow, didn't see that coming.”

In Kirisaki Daichi’s colors, Shido was stretching, laughing with Seto. In his uniform shorts, the prosthetic leg was promptly cause of agitation on the stands.

“Guys,” Koganei cautiously called his two teammates that shouted in surprise. “I know they rot, but it's not nice to talk about the guy like that,” he nodded to the court. “It's pretty neat that he plays like that, right?”

“It is not his leg!” Riko exclaimed, rubbing her nose bridge. “I met that guy before. It’s Shido Ryuzaki,” she explained. “You know, from the training camp. He was so nice, how can he be in that team?”

“It is him?” Hyuuga asked disbelieving. “He is that punk that almost made me lose my-” He suddenly stopped, aware of his transfixed company.

“-my something very important and none of your business,” he lamely completed. “But he seemed like an okay person.”

“We also met him before,” Takao said, attentive eyes trained on the players, a smirk pending on his lips. “Shido didn't seen like the kind of person to condemn that sort of style.”

“What you know,” Kagami shrugged. “People are not what they seen.”

“That was awfully deep of you, Kagami-kun.” Kuroko deadpanned, Nigou firm in his lap. The ace jumped, frightened. “How long have you been there?!”

“Come on people, it is starting,” Kiyoshi warned, eyes serious and fixed on the court. They fell silent.

The players lined up and bowed. They distributed themselves on the court and the tallests stepped into the center ring.

The refreere threw the ball.

….

76 x 13, for Kirisaki Daichi.

The score result was a surprise for no one. The winner had been on of the best in Tokyo last year, afteral.

The strangeness came from the fact that not one player had been injured.

“Good game,” Kiyoshi called.

Hanamiya slouched even lower on the bench, head thrown back and eyes closed. He gave no other signal of hearing him.

The Seirin student slowly sat on the opposite end of the bench. He patiently waited, looking around.

A few spectators passed them on the corridor, they were family members, probably. Some teens in uniform, too, walked past.

They were alone for some time.

“Where is Shido-kun?” Kiyoshi caved first, curiosity getting the best of him. The black haired teen had two bags by his side. One was the standard green and black of their school, the other was white with sakura flowers delicately sewed into the cloth.

“Wouldn't you like to know,” the captain murmured, unhelpful.

The distant sound of voices reached them, ecchoing on the bare walls.

“-hardly the referee's fault, really,” was the trail of conversation they heard.

“Still, sounds unfair, to me.” Was the answer.

Shido and Meijo’s captain came strolling down the corridor. They were in friendly conversation.

“I will be seeing you, Akira-kun,” Shido nodded, as he stopped in front of Hanamiya.

“See you,” he briefly glanced at the other two players, but wisely said nothing, continuing down the hall.

“Great game, Shido-kun!” Kiyoshi stood, offering a fist. The black eyed teen smiled and raised his own hand.

“You are making me sick,” Hanamiya shoved himself up, both bags on his hands. He threw a twisted smile in the center's direction. “It would be a shame if Seirin-” Shido took a step closer to him suddenly, grabbing his shirt violently.

Kiyoshi was certain Shido was going to hit the captain. He was wrong.

Their lips met aggressively, effectively silencing The Bad Boy. Hanamiya was frozen, though he didn't seen surprised. Amused, maybe.

The black eyed teen stepped away, their mouths separating with a wet, satisfied smack.

“Let's go, Mako-chan,” Shido invited, taking his own bag and lacing his fingers with Hanamiya's. “I will treat you lunch,” he promised.

They marched away, hands clasped together. Just before making a turn, Shido threw a wink over his shoulder.

….

“So, what?!” Hyuuga asked, drilling Kiyoshi a withering glare. “Is he reforming that team?! Because I am still pretty pissed at him.”

“I don’t think it's about changing them.” The brunet explained, looking at the older kouhais. The whole team was in conference just outside the sports center.

“Their playing style did change, though.” Furihata mused, sounding hopeful.

“Not really,” Riko interviewed. “They still rely strongly on steals, only now they use Shido as power forward.” She thoughtfully crossed her arms. “Although the foul play wasn't there. But it can be a one time thing, luring other teams into lowering their guards.”

They were silent for a few moments.

“Anyway,” Hyuuga huffed. “It won't matter, whatever they are up to.”

There were murmurs of agreement.


	2. ... and one that lasted a lifetime

They met in the neighbor's playground when they were six.

Their mothers had introduced them to each other, since they had become acquaintances at their golf club.

The women left the kids to their own devices, sitting on a bench and discussing the next sport’s season.

Hanamiya, exclusively Makoto at the time, analised the black eyed child. Ryuzaki stared back, unflinching. “Let's do something fun,” the pale boy concluded.

“Okay,” Ryuzaki agreed easily. He didn't have many friends - truth be told, he had none. For some reason, the other kids didn’t really enjoy his company, and his parents were always working. Actually, such outing with his mother was quite rare. So the opportunity to play with anyone was very appealing.

In the end, it wasn't all that fun.

Ryuzaki was stuck on the water drainage for five hours until he was found and rescued.

When asked about the incident, he claimed to have acted alone.

….

Golf revealed itself a unifying force for the Shido and Hanamiya families.

Being a widower, Hanamiya-san expend most of her time working or taking care of her child. Golf had been one of her only indulgences.

The children often accompanied their mothers to matchs. Both Ryuzaki and Makoto had been, more than once, strapped to their mothers as babies while they played. However, the women's meeting had only happened recently.

That is why their second meeting occurred the first time both families were together.

The women moved to the shooting ranges, while Ryuzaki's father remained in the restaurant area, the kids in tow. He enjoyed the piece and quiet to catch up with readings.

There was a small playground area for the children to entertain themselves, so they were left there, the husband looking up to check on them every other page.

He saw the boys sitting next to each other on the monkey bars, a safe distance to the ground. He kept reading.

He heard a sudden thud.

Quickly looking up, Ryuzaki was on the ground cradling a badly scraped knee.

The boy would claim clumsiness

….

They met again, next time, in the Hanamiya residence.

The Shido family had been invited, among others, for a casual lunch of associate members of the community.

Many parents took their children. The older ones mingled with their parents. The smaller ones were entrusted to babysitters, occupying the extensive garden in group activities.

Makoto sat alone under the tree shade, a colorful book on his lap. No other kid wanted to join him. Most were afraid. Even the nannies were wary.

“Hi,” Ryuzaki sat next to him, a red, soft ball in his hands. “Wanna play?” He smiled, offering the ball.

Makoto stared at the boy, eyes expressionless.

“Sure,” he closed his book as he stood.

The Shido family left earlier.

They had to take their son to the hospital to get stitches.

….

“You forgot your ball,” Makoto approached in the playground, his nanny scurrying after him.

The black eyed boy looked up from the book in his lap. He had a bandage tightly fixed on his right leg, engulfing his thin calf. The parting gift from his visit to the Hanamiya household.

“Oh,” he smiled, accepting the profered toy. “I had your book, so it's okay,” he glanced down. “There were some words I couldn't understand. Will you read with me?”

Makoto had lent him his least favorite book. It was about a lost lady bug that made many friends in her way home.

He hated it.

He had just wanted the adults to think he carried about his ‘friend’.

“You were invited to my home yesterday,” Makoto grumbled, brow frowned. “Why didn't you come?”

Makoto had requested his nanny call the Shido residency to invite the boy for a playdate. She had informed him that Ryuzaki wouldn't be able to see him.

“Oh,” Ryuzaki murmured. “I was at my basketball training!” He exclaimed, grinning brightly. He had never smiled like that at Makoto.

“My dad enrolled me last week. It's so fun!” Ryuzaki promptly described all that he learned and did, speaking quickly in a way the other had never heard.

He talked about the exercises, the court, the positions, the teachers and other students. He happily told Makoto about the friends he was making there. “My dad is even getting earlier home to spend more time with me!” He added, breathless.

“So I might not have much time to play with you anymore,” he concluded, more slowly. He gave the pale boy a leveled gaze that rubbed Makoto the wrong way.

The raven haired boy wanted to say he didn't care whether the boy wanted to see him or not, nor did he care about the other's activities. The stupid boy was only a distraction.

He wanted to laugh and mock, to hurt and injure and say that he had hated him since the first day.

“What if I join your team?” Was what he proposed.

There were no more freak accidents between the boys.

….

They were eight and enjoyed watching cartoons together.

Makoto usually went to Ryuzaki's home after school to play, study and and watch television. The raven haired boy usually chose the channel, since he hated some programs and couldn't stand others.

“Oh,” Ryuzaki said one day. His father was reading the newspaper on the background, the boys huddled in front of the tv with pillows and fruit. “Now there is an interesting anime on,” he boldly reached for the remote, changing channels.

Makoto was speechless a moment. He then frowned, crossed. “What anime? If it's stupid, we are not watching,” he warned.

“It sounded just like the thing we enjoy. My friend, Sakura-chan, recommended,” he answered, settling down.

“What friend?” Makoto certainly had never heard of her, and he didn't think there was anyone with that name on their team.

“From school,” Ryuzaki distractedly said. “She is new, and some people were teasing her about her hair.” He explained, suddenly excited. “The tips were orange, it was so pretty, Mako-chan! I am thinking of asking my parents-”

“Sounds stupid to me,” Makoto closed him off, directing bored eyes to the tv. The anime would probably be stupid, too.

Ryuzaki gazed silently at him. “Okay,” he simply said, just directing his eyes to the telly.

Two days later, he would appear with his hair tips dyed blue.

….

They were ten and spent all their time together.

Makoto and Ryuzaki were an inseparable combo. If you saw one, the other wouldn't be far.

They still played basketball, prodigies, their parents were often told. Ryuzaki loved the game and the excitement of trying to best the other team.

Makoto was less enthusiastic, but he kepting going because he was much better than all the others, even Shido.

They were in a friendly match against another team. Makoto was dribbling, but the opponent was proving hard to pass through. The raven haired boy was getting annoyed.

He glanced at Ryuzaki, who was waving his hand, asking for a pass. Makoto would have given him the ball, except the other stood in front of the judge’s vision exactly that moment.

The opponent bent in pain as Makoto ran through him.

There would be claims of foul play, but Makoto had learned how to act long ago.

When nearby players were asked, Shido said he saw nothing.

The next match, Makoto tried the same trick.

He faced off against another boy blocking him. He observed the players’ and referee's position. He stepped forward.

Shido stole his ball, passing through the opponents like water.

After scoring - with an advanced move no less- Shido and Hanamiya faced each other. The black eyed boy raised an eyebrow, daring his friend to say anything.

Hanamiya twisted his lips in a challenging, feral smile, but there was no more rough play.

At least during that game.

….

They were twelve and loved eating ice cream on hot days.

They would walk together to the parlor near their school after practice and get their favorite flavours. Sometimes, Shido payed for them both. Hanamiya never offered, but neither commented his friend's action.

The raven haired boy always chose the same 100% chocolate. It was far too dark and bitter for Shido, who liked to try something new every now and then.

They were on the line at the counter, many other kids and teens also visiting the place.

A mother with two small children stepped behind them. She had a baby strapped to her front and was holding hands with a toddler. She was asking them what they wanted.

The boys turn came, they got their orders, moving to a side table.

Shido and Hanamiya were speaking of their weekend's plans, whether or not they would accompany their mothers to golf camp or if they would do something else, when the toddler spilled some ice cream on his table.

The mother told her son to go ask for more napkins, calmly taking things out of the way of the spilled sweet.

Hanamiya's eyes tracked the boy's steps, calculating and amused. As the child tumbled back, hands busy with tissues, Hanamiya innocently yawned, stretching a leg to the side.

Shido steadied the kid as he tripped, holding him up and crawling his head to protect him from the fall.

The mother apologized and thanked Shido deeply, scolding her son for not paying attention.

“That was not okay, Mako-chan,” Shido said, dead serious, as they went home.

“Whatever,” Hanamiya shrugged. Shido grabbed his arm strongly, fingers digging into his friend’s flesh, eyes both angry and pleading. “I’m serious, Makoto.”

Hanamiya frowned, lips twisted in disgust. “Fine, you goody two shoes.” He freed his arm, storming off.

….

They were thirteen and something was off.

Maybe the prospect of junior high was getting nerves rattled, or it could be something else.

They chose the same school, so they could be together. Hanamiya didn't really care if Shido was nearby or not, they still were neighbors, and it wasn't like he could get rid of his annoying shadow. But they had to be on the same basketball team.

As they got older, Hanamiya realised there were bigger fishes out there. Elementar y level was nothing compared to pre high. So, he wanted to step up. Grudgingly, he knew that working with Shido was the fastest way to hook and gut said fishes.

He still couldn't give two fucks about the game. Winning or losing was more about the feeling he got when he stepped out of the court than the numbers on the placar.

It just was that, usually, the bigger his team's score, the worst the other equip felt. So, better for Hanamiya.

However, recently, not even a crushing defeat was having the desired effect, not on Makoto, neither on the other teams.

He heard of other individuals just as good as him and Shido, already crushing people through shoots and dunks. The small fries were all numbed to losing. That should have happied the raven haired teen, but all he felt was annoyance.

“What's wrong, Mako-chan?” Ryuzaki sat next to him on their lunch break.

The pale teen bestowed him a leveled gaze, thoughtful. He inclined his head and took a lock of green dyed hair between his fingers, tugging gently.

Yes, maybe _he_ was the problem.

“Nothing.”

….

They were thirteen and a half and something was definitely wrong.

The feeling of emptiness and boredom kept eating at Hanamiya’s mind. Not even watching other teens cry at being unable to score a single point was satisfying anymore.

He told himself it would be funnier if they were crying over something worthier than a lost game.

He told himself it was their own fault for being so weak and pathetic.

“Good game,” Ryuzaki said, smiling, always smiling. He was in a good mood, as usual, mainly since they won another match.

Another boring to death match, that Hanamiya still couldn't care less. He couldn't even try to make things more interesting, since his accursed friend kept interfering.

He ignored the other, who had his hair tips dyed in bright pink that week. Makoto had tried mocking Ryuzaki for his color choice - hell, he had tried poking him about the dyeing since day one- but his friend remained unflappable.

Hanamiya gathered his things and made for the exit, teammates, coaches and opponents mingling about. A few moments later, he heard the tell tale of quick steps behind him.

Ryuzaki caught up to him, wisely keeping silent. The dumb oath was good enough for sensing his mood, at least.

Always the perfect one, always making friends with everyone, even evil, twisted Hanamiya who liked to hurt others.

It wasn't his fault they were so discartable. Like trash.

They started to descend a launch of stairs. Hanamiya fell one step behind.

Without thinking, he pushed him.

….

They were almost fourteen and Shido was still in the hospital.

It had been quite shocking, suddenly rolling down the stairs and suffering an open fracture. He was just glad he didn't remember much besides screaming in blinding pain and Hanamiya's paler than normal face.

Shido tried not to think too deeply about the accident. Oh, he was well aware that Makoto had pushed him, but he already had plenty to worry about.

Like the fact his tibia was infected and that the medical advice was amputation.

He and his parents had received the news that morning. It was almost nightfall, and they had already decided what to do. His parents had just stepped outside the room, his father's eyes shining with unspilled tears and his mother's face pale as a ghost.

He heard the door open and close. He didn't have to look away from the window to know who it was.

He always came at the same time.

“Your parents looked like shit,” was Hanamiya less than ideal greeting. “You don't look so hot either.” And that was the closest to a worried question he would get.

He didn't answer. He heard Makoto shifting, unused to being ignored by his friend.

Were they friends? Shido asked himself. He had liked to think so, at least.

Ryuzaki was well aware that Makoto had issues. He just thought those conflicts wouldn't imper Hanamiya in sincerely befriending him. Now, lying in a hospital bed for more than two months, he wasn't so sure.

“Do you remember when we met each other,” Ryuzaki started, not really asking as much as telling, “you convinced me that there were youkais down the sewage, and that if we found one, it would grant us a wish?”

Hanamiya stilled. “Oi-”

“What were you thinking when you did that?” Ryuzaki demanded, turning bottomless black eyes to Makoto. “Did you really want to just trick me, play a prank. Or did you actually want to see me hurt? What if it had been raining and I drowned-”

“You were asking for it!” Hanamiya viciously shouted. His fists were tightly closed and and rage burned in his eyes. “All desperate for attention and stupid enough to believe me!”

“My fault?” Ryuzaki numbly inquired, unbelieving. He sat straighter on the bed, directing a frigid stare at the other. “Was it Onoda's fault you struck him during our match? Was it that girl's fault you tripped her on the sandbox?!” He listed, voice leveled, but hands shaking in resentfulness and sadness.

“Yes!” Hanamiya busted, that feral look over taking his grey eyes. “They all deserved it, were asking for it. Had they been better, it wouldn’t have happened!” He exclaimed, pacing restless.

“They are going to amputate my leg, Hanamiya,” Ryuzaki quietly informed. The other froze on his tracks, eyes wildly searching Shido's, for the truth, probably. The raven haired teen always suspected others, even his best - only - friend. That shouldn't sting as much as it did, considering the circumstances.

The way Hanamiya’s eyes widened and his mouth fell suddenly slack, seemed to tell Shido all he needed to know.

“Do I deserve it, Makoto?”

They stared at each other for a few moments. Hanamiya turned to go. He opened the door, but didn't step outside.

“You trusted me,” he simply said. “So yes, for that, you deserve it.”

He left.

….

Hanamiya changed schools. There, he knew no one and no one knew him. He could start over.

He entered the basketball team because he now would have the freedom to do as he pleased.

He also made friends with an older boy, with who he seemed to just click.

With narrow eyes behind glasses and an always present smirk, Imayoshi was very different from Shido.

When Hanamiya spoked of how pathetic someone was, the older teen would lightly caluje him, but not really mean it.

When he spoke of basketball plays that had nothing to do with special passes and dunks, Imayoshi listened and helped him execute them.

When he wanted to trip someone on the corridor, there was no one to prevent him.

He was much happier now than before, he told himself. No annoying overly good person to hold him back.

….

By the time Hanamiya was almost finishing junior high and looking for high schools, he already hated Imayoshi.

He was immensely glad the day his senpai went to high school. He was more than disgusted by that annoying, meddling bastard.

Hanamiya was ashamed of himself for being so gullible. What was he? A lost fool obeying a master like a dog?

Hanamiya realised he was being played because of, truth be told, something incredibly stupid and meaningless.

“So, who is this ‘Colorful Stupidity’ saved on your contacts?” Had been his senpai's disinterested question, the smug bastard not even looking at him.

The younger’s lips had twisted in a smirk, though he had seethed inside. Since when had Imayoshi had access to his cell? There was only one person who new his password and he was-

“None of your business, senpai,” he had snarked back. Guess he would just have to change his lock sequence.

“So stingy,” Imayoshi had airly answered. He had suddenly looked at Hanamiya over his lenses, eyes minimally wider. “I thought it had something to do with one Shido Ry-” He ducked the punch aimed at his head with a laugh.

“Shut up,” Hanamiya had snarled, teeth bared. He hadn't known what to think, all he had been sure about was that the bastard had nothing to do messing with his past.

“Oy, you wound me,” he had sang with a smirk, eyes shining behind the glasses. “You always tell me everything, even the bad things you like to do,” he had completed with a meaningful look.

It had dawned on Hanamiya the fact that he had had shared everything with his senpai. In his rush to abandon one devil, he had met another, telling every incriminatory thing to someone he hadn't even known all that well.

He had cut ties with Imayoshi after that.

As said, a stupid reason. The past should stay there.

He spent his last year playing basketball his way, no one contradicting him. That Teiko team proved itself a true annoyance, so there wasn't much his teammates could do.

He wasn't lonely, he told himself.

He didn't miss speaking of books and novels. He didn't miss watching horror and romantic movies. He didn't miss eating 100% chocolate ice cream.

He certainly didn't miss hair tips dyed in a thousand colors.

….

High school was heaven.

Kirisaki Daichi proved itself a great revelation for Hanamiya.

Finally free from his senpai’s shadow, finally completely away from that person.

His comrades easily enough bent to his ways and ideas. His web gaining shape since day one. The coach quitted a few weeks after his enrolment.

Everything went accord to plan. There truly were good teams on interhigh. It was tremendously satisfying bringing them all down.

Seirin, particularly so.

Kiyoshi Teppei had played against Hanamiya in junior high. Only at the time, Shido had already been hospitalised and Hanamiya was too rusty to play rough. The center wouldn't see what hit him.

The Iron Heart was a goody two shoes that believe in team effort and dreams. He believe in friendly competition and hand shaking regardless what happened. He believe in being good.

Hanamiya hated him more the he ever did anything else.

When he gave the execution order, his finger snap wasn't loud enough to cover a constant voice in the back of his head. He wouldn’t regret this, he had never regretted anything.

He didn't miss sitting quietly at the park. He didn't miss entertained laughter at his philosophical jokes. He didn't miss discussions about new animes. He didn't miss sitting on the subway station and making up stories for the people walking by.

“Cheating his wife with-” Hanamiya would start.

“-his long lost love.”

“Running away after killing-” The raven haired boy would try.

“-his hunger.”

“Living a dull life-” Makoto would propose.

“-filed with small moments of happiness.”

“Sitting next to the most annoying person on the earth-” He would huff.

“-who likes you the most.” Shido would finish, taking his friend's hand.

Hanamiya didn't miss any of that bullshit.

….

His second year in high school was complicated.

Until the Winter Cup, everything had been fine. Kara was proving a great addition and good company, too.

Kentaro was lazy, but kept quiet, so he was fine, too, in Hanamiya’s book.

Truth be told, he felt well connected to everyone on his team, which was strange. He had never had so many people who didn't make him feel like ripping his eyes and ears out.

He figured being the black sheep on the white flock brought people together.

Everything was fine.

Until Seirin's game.

He had heard of the two rookies and wasn't intimidated by them. He had a plan, and he was going to execute it.

He had found that people were disturbed by his ability of sounding deeply concerned and sincere one moment, and mocking the other.

So he did just that.

He knew the players were onto his rough game, so he goaded them.

He knew they would try to retaliate, so Hanamiya wanted them to stoop to his level, to destroy through something other than scores and numbers. He tested them.

He knew they would see right through his attempts of irritating them. He did it anyway.

Seirin endured. How they fucking did.

Hanamiya was appalled by their perseverance. He had never met anyone that could ignore him for so long and keep doing things their way. Even Imayoshi couldn't drive him from his antics and actions.

And that accursed Kiyoshi, standing on harms like a bloody mártir. Standing up to Hanamiya, who was evil, twisted and liked to see others fail.

As that invisible brat, Kuroko, launched a fast pass right next to his face, Hanamiya realised he had met someone just like that.

It was definitely Kiyoshi's, the team's fault, they were that way.

The thing was, it also was Hanamiya's fault. He pushed them first, they were merely pushing back.

Shido had just been pushing back.

….

Just a few days after that fateful game, Hanamiya visited the Shido's household.

He rang the bell, when before he would have entered without knocking. It was times like these he realised how close he and Ryuzaki had been.

No one answered.

Hanamiya turned away and walked down the street. He didn't have a plan in mind, nor did he know where to go. He hadn't decided what to tell Ryuzaki, anyway.

He heard the well known sound of a basketball bouncing on the ground. He saw himself on the neighbor's park, where a concrete court stood.

Ryuzaki was there. Almost four years since they last saw each other and yet, he hadn't changed. Well, he had.

Hanamiya's eyes were immediately trained on the prosthetic leg. Of course the bloody dumb would-

He took a deep, calming breath. In nothing his temper would help right now.

The other teen wasn't alone. There were two kids playing with him, boy and girl, probably siblings.

“Now pass to Naguisa-chan, Ryo-kun,” Ryuzaki instructed, blocking the boy.

The ball flew, quite off course, and the girl was unable to intercept it. It rolled in Hanamiya's direction.

“It's okay!” Shido consoled the disheartened child, lying a hand on his head. “Let's try again, yeah?” And he was jogging after the ball.

They both froze.

Hanamiya expected many things from Ryuzaki. Anger, sadness, frustration and even fear. Maybe indifference, actually, the captain was hoping for it, since he was sure any other emotion would only be counter productive to what he wanted to achieve. Whatever that was, anyway.

He definitely wasn't expecting a smile.

“Well,” Shido started, sounding just as happy as he did before. “Look what came back,” he approached, the leg clicking and adding bounce to his gait.

It was oddly fitting of him.

Shido had his hair tips dyed in cyan. The sight warmed Hanamiya strangely inside. He felt disgust at himself, for caring so much, for relying so much.

He repressed his own revulsion. Shido was someone who he had enjoyed being with, someone even he could see was worthy. There was no need of such reaction.

“Do you wanna play with us?” Was the unexpected request. “We have odd numbers, so it's kinda complicated.”

Makoto searched the others expression. He seemed nothing more than genially amused. A mask, then. Ryuzaki had never done or felt things half measured.

They played. Or, at least the kids thought they did. That simple bounce and pass and shoot was nothing like a real game, not even their elementary games were that dull.

They looked happy enough, though, and knowing Shido, that was his only concern.

Not even an hour later, they sat alone on the playground's swing.

“Do you remember when we met,” Shido started, more telling than asking, “you convinced me there were youkais down the drainage and that, if we found one, it would grant us a wish?”

Hanamiya holt his breath, unsure. He had no idea what to say.

Black eyes turned to him, and he braced himself for the same question from that fateful night at the hospital.

“Do you know what I would have wished for?” Was the unexpected question. Hanamiya gazed at him, open mouthed, speechless in a way he rarely got. He barely managed to shake his head.

Shido smiled brightly, stretching both legs ahead of him, the metal of the prosthetic glinting in the weak winter’s setting sun.

“I would have wished to have Mako-chan as a friend for the rest of our lives, since he was so nice and shared secrets like that with me.”

“I am sorry,” Hanamiya spitted out, immediately.

They stared at each other, Shido now emotionless, Makoto enraged, disgusted, ashamed, a jumble of conflicted emotions he couldn't grasp one from another, nor pinpoint cause and reason.

“I didn't want to hurt you this badly. I mean-” Hanamiya backtracked, since he had decided this day was the day to be completely honest, even if mortification ate him alive. “I wanted to, but it was an impulsive reaction, I just wanted to do things my way and you were holding me back!” He exclaimed, frustration permeating every word.

He stood and passed restless, shaking his hands eloquently.

“I know things would be much worse if you had let me do whatever I wanted. Hell I-” Hanamiya gave a sudden, maniac laugh. “I look back and feel shame of the things I would have done if you were not there. Some things are just so _stupid_!” He laughed again, dragging a hand across his mouth.

“I know I blamed you,” he continued, looking down and digging his nails into his flesh. “I blamed everyone,” he said more quietly, before training his eyes into shadow pools. “But we both knew it was my fault.” He confessed.

They were silent.

“I can't compensate you for what I have done, but I can acknowledge it.” Makoto explained. “I can't ask for forgiveness, but I can try to make things less wrong.” He proposed.

Shido said nothing.

Hanamiya dry swallowed, pushing his hair back and covering his face, realisation dawning heavily on him. There he was, trying to apologize to a guy who had lost a leg because of him in hopes that they could, what? Make up and be happy together forever?

He wanted to laugh hysterically, to give up this stupid make up plan and tell Shido he was kidding, that he didn't mean it and that he was glad the other was crippled forever and would never play basketball well again and never would bother him any-

He felt hands holding his trembling shoulders. Pathetic, he was disgraceful, shaking like a leaf and crying like a loser. That is what he got when he didn't think plans through.

“B-baka,” Hanamiya attempted, words empty. “L-like I w-would ever say s-something li-ike tha-”

“I missed you, too, Mako-chan,” Ryuzaki confessed, embracing the other. “I'm glad you realised those things,” he put a hand on Hanamiya's head, shushing him. “I was very angry at myself for liking you. I was more crushed when it came to me how much you had purposely tried to hurt me,” he told him.

They stood in each other’s company in piece. Shido had always hugged him, back when they were friends, which annoyed Hanamiya to no end. Now, he was just content.

“You said you couldn't compensate me, and that you would try to make things less wrong,” Shido accused, suddenly. “Did you mean it?”

They separated, locking gazes. It had been years since Hanamiya last cried, the tear tracks strange and foreign on his face in a disconcerting manner. “I did,” he promised.

“Let us start then,” Ryuzaki concluded, putting his hands on his hips and raising his head with a grin.

Hanamiya turned dubious eyes at him. He felt old and known annoyance chewing at him, that always appeared just before Shido did something overly goody.

“Just like that?” Hanamiya couldn't hold back. “All I had to do was apologise and say I was to blame, which was a given, and we are back?”

“You tell me,” Shido returned, head cocking to the side. “Do you think we can go back?”

They gazed again in silence at each other. Makoto sighed, closing his eyes, unbelieving with himself and the situation.

“Not back,” he admitted, reaching to take Shido's hand. “Forward.”

….

Shido transferred to Kirisaki Daichi’s third year, quite uncommon.

When asked, he would say he was chasing his long lost flower.

….

The day the basketball team finally agreed, wholeheartedly, to stop foul playing, Ryuzaki kissed Makoto on their way home.

Since then, they would usually be seen holding hands.

….

They went to the old ice cream parlor. Hanamiya got his bitter poison and Shido caramel.

The raven haired boy made his companion pay, since he had been the one to drag them there.

Shido agreed after receiving a kiss in the cheek

….

Shido would never tell Hanamiya who he met at the mountain's trak, nor from whom he had stolen the Special Robot Samurai Limited Edition.

But he did tell him how he had found a lost little girl in lolita dress.

“Sounds cute,” Makoto mumbled, half asleep next to Shido on the bed.

The idea of facing the ace of another team had been Hanamiya's.

….

They were eighteen and trying to win the Winter Cup together. For that, they had to pass through Interhigh with a high position.

Since Seirin was already a competitor for winning the year before, Tokyo would have three representative schools. So, they had to fight for one of the two seats.

They had to be one of them. So, they started their season with full force and a touch of drama.

Having a third year amputee walk into the court among Kirisaki Daichi had that effect.

“It won't matter, whatever they are up to,” Hyuuga just finished, as they started to stroll to the bus stop.

“Seirin, wait!” Someone called, rushing in their direction. It was enough to freeze them in their tracks.

Shido came running, prosthetic leg clicking, but most eyes were drawn to what he was carrying. Or better, who.

“Nigou!” Riko exclaimed, bending slightly to be on the same high as the dog. Yes, it definitely was their mascot, all uniform jersey, blue eyes and dopey smiles.

“Oh,” Kuroko murmured, looking down at his bag, where he usually carried the dog. “His presence is really weak, I didn't even realise when he left,” he deadpanned as usual. “Impressive. I can see now why you guys never see me.”

“He followed us,” Shido explained, rubbing the malamute's head before giving him back to Izuki, who was the closest. He had been gazing at his green uniform distrustfully.

The point guard discreetly ran a hand over Nigou's torso, back and belly, checking to see if something was off. The dog threw him what would be considered a disapproving look.

“Aida-san, Hyuuga-kun,” Shido nodded to them both. They awkwardly responded in kind.

“These are my friends,” Kiyoshi stepped forward, swiping a hand in his team’s direction. Seirin had divided emotions, some seeming uncertain, others on the cusp of angers, a few were politely neutral. “This is Shido-kun, guys.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Shido bowed slightly. Some heads bowed back, most just nodded cooly. The team was tense.

Hyuuga cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Congrats on your game,” he murmured. “I heard it was your first since…” And he waved gracelessly on the leg's direction.

“Thank you!” He sincerely said. “I can't wait to play against you.” He earnestly informed, winking in Kagami’s and Kuroko's direction. “I heard plenty of you already.”

“Right,” someone mumbled doubtedly.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Would you like to join us, Shido-kun?” Kuroko proposed, suddenly. “We were going to get Magi burguer.”

The black eyed teen gaped a bit, clearly caught of guard. “Oh, hum…” He hesitated briefly.

“Let's go, Ryuzaki!” Came Hanamiya's irked voice. “How long does it take to return a mutt?” The captain was many meters away, clearly unwilling to approach the others, if his twisted lips and deep frown were any indication. “I am leaving you behind, baka,” he warned after a few instants, as if it was a second thought.

“I will meet you at the restaurant, Mako-chan!” Shido called back, entertainment shining in his eyes. “Order whatever you like,” he added, going as far as making a shooing motion.

Seirin observed it all flabbergasted, a few mouthing Hanamiya's nickname, others looking between the two. The raven haired teen huffed, murmuring something that couldn't reach them, but did leave.

“I wanted to thank you all, actually,” Shido confessed, as his partner got out of earshot. “Whatever happened last game, was enough to get our lives back on track,” he explained, eyes down cast. “This game, today, was only possible because of you,” he gazed deeply into all their eyes, his pupiless orbes earnest.

“We thought maybe you were the one changing him,” Koganei chirped in.

Ryuzaki laughed, not unkindly.

“Oh, no,” he mused. “I could never change Mako-chan, he is too stubborn for that,” he smirked, mysteriously. “Only he could change himself.”

And he left, with an upbeat wave. “I will be seeing you.”

o.O.o

“Thank you for looking out for him,” Shido genuinely said.

“Well, I did what I could,” Imayoshi shrugged with a smirk. “He is damn stubborn,” he chuckled lowly, adjusting his glasses. “And for all the good his high IQ is, he is a bloody _baka,_ ” he concluded.

Ryuzaki laughed along, eyes kind. “Yes, he is.” They sat together holding fishing rods. Right after his surgery, during healing and physiotherapy when he still couldn’t use a prosthetic, he and his father had found something to do outdoors while, well, sitting.

Fishing in small pounds it had been, where he met an older boy, with who he could bond in a place filled with middle aged uncles and dads.

With narrow eyes behind glasses and an always present smirk, Imayoshi was very different from Hanamiya.

When Shido asked for color suggestions, Imayoshi named things actually useful.

When Shido asked what his favorite thing about basketball was, he didn’t say, untruthfully, it was watching others fail.

It had been a surprise learning they knew the same Hanamiya.

“Pity I couldn’t play against you, senpai,” Shido mused, pulling his line and standing. “The fishes aren’t biting, I’m going,” he huffed a laugh. The animals never bit his hook.

Imayoshi’s line was immediately pulled. He smirked even more as he prepared to yank. “I will see you, Shido-kun.” He stood, feeling a fight, eyes wider fixed on the dark waters. “Say hi to Hanamiya-kun for me, and good luck on Interhigh.” He distractedly dismissed.

Shido left with a last wave.

The End.

Guys! I made a drawing of Shido. If anyone is interested, you can see it [HERE](https://imgur.com/a/tVPpPbQ).


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